


I Am Not Worthy (Not Worthy Of This)

by reliquiaen



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:31:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4844189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reliquiaen/pseuds/reliquiaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: “I found your tumblr but you don’t know and urg now you’re posting about your crush on this cute person oh wait is that me.”  Got waaaay out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Not Worthy (Not Worthy Of This)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song 'Ashes of Eden' by Breaking Benjamin, the quote on the gif of fireflies is also from that song. It is sad, the fic is not.  
> The song Chloe sings in the shower is 'She Is' by Lady Antebellum.

So it’s not a thing Beca’s particularly proud of, but sitting behind Chloe Beale in her boring-as-fuck history class comes with a few very nice perks.

One: Chloe’s a straight A student so whenever she’s on a site doing research and paying their teacher a whole zero attention, Beca can assume it’s a good site to use as a reference for assessment. Usually this is foolproof. Her marks have definitely improved since she started paying more mind to what Chloe was doing and less time groaning about reading the chapters in her textbook.

Two: It’s highly amusing to watch Chloe scroll through endless pages of cat gifs. (Beca assumes she steers clear of outright videos because they’re loud and her speakers are faulty… not that she knows that.)

Three: Chloe’s just really nice to look at and when she laughs at a particularly humorous cat it’s just awesome and Beca is least proud of this fact. It only rates a mention because it’s the truth. Though it’s not a truth that she likes to _admit_ to herself, but Chloe has a pretty smile, okay?

On one dreary Thursday while their teacher is prattling about some fifteenth century nonsense, Chloe is scrolling through some educational site that covers the topic much more thoroughly. Beca has just finished interpreting the URL (which is small from her seat in the row behind her) and yes, this site is _amazing_ she realises within seconds. It has the added bonus of being one of those real official websites supported and funded by the government and the education department and fun things like that. A veritable gold mine, in other words.

Beca lifts her eyes to see what the teacher plans on telling them is their next assignment (he’d been hinting for weeks, but the man was _maddeningly_ slow with assessment stuff). Something about an essay they’d have to write at the end of term followed up by a short response exam. Lovely. All the things she enjoys in life.

She listens only long enough to find out what topics they’re allowed to cover before zoning him out. Her gaze flicks past Chloe’s laptop screen again – because it had changed not for any other reason, obviously – and finds herself looking at… Tumblr’s dashboard? Huh. Beca would’ve picked Chloe as a Facebook person, yes, maybe an Instagram selfie-taker but Tumblr? Mm… nope.

Still, her dash is filled with more funny cat gifs, the occasional Vine (which she skates past so they don’t load) and some quotes that Beca supposes are probably inspirational. It’s honestly all stuff that has Beca curious and before she can really think about it, she’s typing in Chloe’s URL. It’s probably all music and gorgeous photographs of some landscapes somewhere in Europe but that’s okay.

The page loads and she’s faced with a lovely pastel, sort of minimalist layout. Definitely not what she’d have expected and for a moment she thinks she’s got the wrong blog. It doesn’t matter because she doesn’t care that much and this one has some nice stuff on it. What could it hurt, right?

Jesse leans in beside her, expression questioning. “What are we looking at?” he whispers.

“A blog,” she mumbles back.

“Bored of history, huh?”

“Duh.”

He bobs his head. “Those are really pretty.”

And they are… The photos of glaciers, that is. All swirls of blue and white and green. Very cool. (Pun intended. Pun _always_ intended.)

“Whose is it?” Jesse asks then.

For a moment, Beca freezes, a debate raging inside on whether or not it’s even safe to admit it’s Chloe’s (she thinks). No, better not. She offers a shrug. “The internet’s.”

He only nods again.

And then the bell’s ringing and Beca finds herself bookmarking the page. Just in case. She files out with the rest of her peers, glad it’s the end of the day. She pauses by Jesse’s locker and waits for him to get his stuff before moving on to hers. Chloe’s locker is a few down from Beca’s and as she stops to throw all her crap inside and haul out her bag she glances over.

By pure chance, Chloe is looking her way. She flashes Beca a bright grin and a small wave before flouncing off down the corridor to throw an arm around her blonde friend’s shoulders. Beca thinks her name is Aubrey, but all she really knows is that she’s tall, on the debate team and sort of terrifying.

Jesse nudges her and that’s the moment she realises she might’ve kinda been staring after Chloe. “What?” she asks, whirling.

He smirks annoyingly. “Just watching you and your adorable little Chloe-crush.”

Her mouth opens to fire back an angry retort but all that comes out is, “I…” Beca feels the tips of her ears burning. She takes a little satisfaction in slamming her locker door closed with unnecessary force and storming off. He’ll catch up if he wants. Which he does easily courtesy of his stupidly long legs. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she finally manages to grumble.

“It’s okay, Beca,” he laughs. “I think deep down everyone at school is lowkey crushing on Chloe.”

That is surprisingly unhelpful. So she glares at him. “Shut up.”

He punches her lightly in the shoulder. “So can I swing past today and do some study for maths? I’m nowhere near ready.”

“If you keep coming around my dad’s going to think something’s up.” She’s still a little grouchy and it shows in her tone, but it’s also somewhat teasing and Jesse picks up on it right away.

Melodramatically, he slaps a hand to his chest, fingers winding into his shirt. “You’ve wounded me. Are you saying I don’t have a chance?”

Beca finds herself smiling and bumps into him, sending him staggering – it’s exaggerated – but he does it for her amusement and she knows it. “Don’t be an ass.”

He just waves her away. “Alright, I know. But for real. Can I study at your place this afternoon?”

“Yeah. Always.” She squints at him though, not wanting to make it easy on him. “Any reason in particular?”

He sighs and she knows it’s about his brother again. So she doesn’t push. Just gives him an awkward pat on the arm.

 

* * *

 

Once Jesse’s left for the evening (her dad would have invited him to stay for dinner, Beca knows this, but her friend has family matters to deal with) she finds herself bored. This is not a surprise to her in any way, but it is sort of annoying that studying only seems appealing when she has someone else around to suffer with her. For a little while, she manages to keep powering through one of her revision sheets for maths, but it doesn’t last.

And then, curiosity gets the better of her, and next thing she knows Beca’s opening that blog that might-be-but-probably-isn’t Chloe’s. Out of sheer inquisitiveness and nothing else, she starts scrolling. There are a few links off to one side under a picture of a tree that Beca thinks she vaguely recognises. They take her to an ask box, first off which she doesn’t bother with.

The second link is an about page. It doesn’t have a name (which she’s also unsurprised by), but it does list other things. Age, sixteen; birthday, March ninth; female; a few TV shows she’s watching; an aspiration about becoming a dance instructor and another quote. This one superimposed in cursive on a gif of fireflies in a jar, she thinks. The words read: _Stay with me, take my hand. Shine until there’s nothing left but you_.

And the third link is all things tagged with ‘me stuff’. Mostly they’re photographs, Beca’s quick to notice. Many of them taken in her area. There she spots a picture of the lake, sun coming up behind the trees on the far side, splashing everything in warm pinks and oranges. One is of frost turning the park into a strange crystalline world. Another is that one red brick wall behind the library with vines crawling all up the side, it’s raining and the leaves glisten an uncommonly bright green. It’s very artistic, she thinks, still scrolling.

Right at the bottom, the very first picture posted, is one of Chloe and the blonde Beca thinks is Aubrey. It’s a candid photo, clearly taken by someone else and they’re both laughing hard at something. Chloe has her arm around Aubrey’s shoulders and in her other hand she’s waving a red ice-block through the golden haze of late afternoon light. It’s a really great picture, Beca decides instantly.

So this is very probably Chloe’s blog. Huh. She has no idea what to do with that information except scroll back up and start reading some of the anecdotes posted amongst all the pictures.

The stories are all pretty boring: that one funny thing Aubrey’s ever said, or the time she broke her wrist climbing a tree (which, you know, ow), or the first boy her sister brought home and that time their literature teacher made a social faux pas in class that had everyone by turns horrified and amused. The usual. She even rates a mention, which she does find incredibly shocking since Beca’s pretty sure she’s kept well under the radar at school so far. But apparently not if she’s made Chloe’s blog.

It’s not much, really, a post about when she transferred to the school the previous year. Still, she’s mentioned. Inexplicably that makes her smile.

The transfer hadn’t made her smile. She’d had a whole one friend (Amy) at her other school but she’d been Very Upset that she’d had to move in with her dad and swap schools and all that. Though on the bright side, she does now have _three_ whole friends (Amy still texts her and they catch up over the holidays, Jesse and his pal Benji count now too though which is nice). Plus, this new school has Chloe. A big bonus.

Beca’s just about made it back to the top, reading as she goes, when she notices something start to change. The photos are the same more or less; it’s just the little stories that contain a subtle shift (not subtle enough if Beca can catch it though). The anecdotes cease to be about boring everyday things and start to mention… _someone_.

There are a whole three posts that this person is in and not once is a pronoun used so Beca’s kinda baffled. Though it’s not hard to figure out what’s going on. And, honestly, it’s ridiculous even as Beca thinks it, but it like… it _sounds_ as if Chloe’s got some hopeless crush on someone.

She has to bite back a laugh even as the thought crosses her mind. Then she closes the tab and heads downstairs to help with dinner. It’s not important.

(But it is a little funny.)

 

* * *

 

First thing Friday morning she has chemistry. Chloe and Aubrey are in the class too and they do all their practical assessment together and make the rest of the class look like imbeciles. Beca doesn’t mind, she gets to work with Stacie (who’s another friend of Chloe’s), but she’s really nice so it’s okay. She does occasionally flirt with Beca, admittedly, but she’s sure it’s all a conspiracy anyway.

Today’s different somehow Beca can’t quite define. Stacie and Aubrey have their heads together. Whatever it is they’re discussing bodes ill for someone if the smile on Stacie’s face is anything to go by. Chloe walks in trailed by their teacher, who’s already spouting some nonsense about their next practical experiment plus research essay task thing and Beca tunes out. The task sheets always make more sense than the teacher’s waffling anyway.

So when the instruction papers are handed out she fixes her eyes on that instead. She’s paying just enough attention to hear the teacher say, “Pair up and get started then.” This prompts her to lift her eyes and seek out Stacie, wondering why she’s disappeared.

Instead what happens is she comes face to face with Chloe. And yes, it is horribly cliché and awful, but for a hot second, Beca forgets to breathe.

“Sorry,” Chloe mutters. “Aubrey is working with Stacie this time,” she explains. “I was hoping maybe we could work together?” Her tone is caught somewhere between distressed and hopeful, Beca thinks.

She just nods, dumbly, finally remembering to inhale, exhale, repeat. “Uh, yeah,” she eventually manages. “I… yeah that’s cool.”

Chloe offers her a small smile. “Okay. Good. Well let’s get started.”

Working with Chloe is completely different to with Stacie. Their rhythms don’t quite meet up and they keep bumping into each other or brushing into personal space bubbles and once Beca nearly bangs her head into Chloe’s nose when the other girl looks up from scribing notes in her messy hand at the same time Beca reaches for another piece of equipment. For a second they just stay there and Beca wonders _what the hell_ the static is. But then she shakes her head and pulls away. Something flickers on Chloe’s face but she doesn’t see it.

The lesson passes slowly.

 

* * *

 

“What’s with the face?” Jesse asks her flatly, collapsing onto the bench opposite her as Benji sits to her left. “You look angrier at the world than usual.”

She sucks in a deep breath and sighs heavily. “Just chemistry,” she huffs.

Jesse nods sagely. “Yeah. I feel that. At least you and Stacie always do better than a flat pass. This assignment is gonna _suck_ working with Lauren.”

Beca allows her chin to hit her palm, elbow propped against the bench. “Yeah well it’d be fine if I was working with Stacie again,” she grumbles. “But she bailed on me to work with Aubrey.”

“So?” Benji asks. “Who was Aubrey working with? Pair with them.”

She eyes him flatly. “I _am_ paired with them. And them is Chloe.”

Jesse’s face breaks out into a ridiculous grin. “How thrilling. How are you gonna handle that?”

She just shrugs. “Do the work, don’t get distracted, pass the assignment. Then go back to working with Stacie.”

“Boring,” Jesse decides, puffing out his cheeks. “You’d be missing out on _heaps_ of opportunities there, you know? Study at her place, after school coffee dates down the street, hanging out in the library at lunch.” He follows that up with a wink and Beca spends the rest of their lunch hour ignoring him.

 

* * *

 

She sits slumped way down low in her chair – resting back on two legs – her spare lesson in the library. Her pen taps against the edge of her desk, as she attempts to think of a decent story line for the creative writing piece they’re doing in literature. Why the prompts have to be so vague and unhelpful is beyond her, but _reconnaissance_ isn’t… well that’s just not useful really. What is she supposed to write about? War? Corporate espionage? Secret agents?

Actually that last one isn’t so bad, might be fun at least. Her pen keeps tapping out a beat as she plots it out mentally. Beca gets at least sixteen percent of a story planned out before her reverie is rudely interrupted.

“Beca?”

The front legs of her chair hit the carpet with a jolt and her head whips around. Chloe is standing beside her, arms around a pair of thick history textbooks looking gorgeous as usual. Though there is a slight frown creasing her brow and she’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Hi?” Beca says, though it comes out like a question. In the back of her mind, Jesse’s laughing at her.

Chloe smiles and it’s small and sort of scared, Beca thinks. It’s weird. “Can I ask you something?” she asks in a voice equally small and sort of scared.

It takes literally everything Beca has in her not to smirk and make a dumb comment about how she’s already asked a question, but yes, she may ask another. Instead she says, “Shoot,” and holds up her pen like a gun. Which is stupid. She’s stupid.

After a beat of quiet, Chloe takes a deep breath and her words all fall out in a great rush. “So I’d really like to do well on this chemistry assignment and we don’t have enough time in class to actually talk about it so I was wondering if you’d like to come to my place this weekend so we can do some research and plan it out and get started on the thesis and…” She runs out of steam, _finally_ and Beca thinks maybe that’s a blush appearing on her cheeks…? No. Can’t be. It’s probably just because she didn’t take in any oxygen through all of that rambling. Yeah.

In any case, Beca’s smiling then, a quiet thing that might be an echo of the one Chloe wore before. “Yeah, that’s cool,” she says with a shrug that tries for (but probably falls short of) offhand. “What time?”

Chloe blinks as if the idea that Beca would agree to _working_ on an assignment was so foreign to her that she hadn’t actually considered it happening. “Oh, um. Is ten too early?”

“In the morning?”

“Yeah?”

“On Saturday?”

Chloe nods this time.

“Yep,” she replies, popping her ‘p’. “That’s fine with me. But you’ve either gotta let me go before lunch or feed me.”

She says that jokingly and thankfully, Chloe seems to relax slightly, offering a breathy kind of laugh. “Yeah no, we have food. Duh.”

“No worries then. See you tomorrow.”

Chloe’s nodding again, back pedalling slowly until she bumps into a desk. Then she turns and makes a beeline for the entrance where she pauses only long enough to check her books out. Beca watches her the whole time and tries not to think too hard on why that might be.

 

* * *

 

Her dad drops her off out the front of Chloe’s house. She only had the address because she’d spent all of the previous night on social media trying to find Chloe and get it. Along with eventually attaining the address, her phone now has Chloe’s number in it. Which is nice in a weird tingly way that Beca strangles into submission before knocking.

She shuffles her shoes against the polished wooden decking as she waits. Not that she’s there long; the door is yanked in with surprising ferocity only a few moments later. Then, Beca finds herself staring uncomprehendingly at Chloe… but younger. It takes a good long five seconds for her to remember that Chloe has a little sister.

Beca flicks her wrist absently. “Hi,” she mutters, uncertain. “I’m…”

“Beca,” the girl sighs, something flashing in her eyes. “Yes. I know.” She steps aside to let her in but doesn’t bother to explain that cryptic statement.

Hesitantly, Beca enters the house, her attention pulled away from mini-Chloe (who’s probably around fourteen, honestly, so not really _mini_ ) to stare at the interior. The entrance was a short hall way terminating by the living room which sprawled out to her left and down a couple of steps. There was an arch to the right leading to a dining room and kitchen and straight ahead was another arch guarding a hallway running lengthways down the side. Everything was painted a sort of off-white colour, kind of ivory; hung on the walls in geometric patterns were paintings and photographs, some of which Beca recognises from her blog.

Mini-Chloe taps her elbow, drawing her gaze back around. “Shoes off,” she grumbles before disappearing into the hall on the far side and taking a left.

After toeing off her shoes, Beca just stands there, bag over her shoulder, staring at the photos on the wall. She’s not really comfortable with exploring a strange house on her own (she might stumble onto the Great Family Secret or something) but it’s not like there’s much else for her to do. And anyway, she gets this warm feeling in her stomach from looking at Chloe’s photos like she’s somehow learning something secret and precious about her.

“Gabrielle!” Beca turns at the sound of Chloe calling her sister (presumably). “Who was at the door?” There’s a soft clicking noise and then footsteps and Chloe walks past the opening on the right, she stops in the space, glaring off to the left. Beca finds it amusing to watch; like a play.

“Hey,” she says softly, catching Chloe’s attention and offering a smile. In response, Chloe’s whole face breaks into a luminous grin.

Before Gabrielle can get out more than, ‘your tiny,’ Chloe’s hollering, “Never mind,” back at her. Almost, Beca wants to know what came after tiny. But then Chloe is walking over to her, still beaming, and she forgets to care. “Come on. I’ve got some prelim notes ready on my computer.”

Bobbing her head, Beca follows silently. There are more pictures in this other hall as well; not as many as in the public space, but some. She pauses to look at one of Chloe when she was probably four; it’s snowing in the image and little Chloe is wearing a thick sweater, a beanie pulled down around her curls and a bright smile on her face. She’s sitting on a horse that looks altogether too big for her and she’s got a giant snowball clasped between her gloved hands. Beca can imagine her laughing and then the instant after the photo was taken hurling the ball at whoever it was and smacking them with a face full of snow.

“That was my grandma’s place,” a soft voice says beside her and Beca looks around. Chloe’s expression is fond and maybe a little wistful. “She lived up north, Pennsylvania. We used to visit around Christmas and we’d watch the ball drop on TV with her.” Beca watches the smile flickering around Chloe’s mouth and wonders at the memories she’s clearly reliving.

“That sounds fun,” she whispers, not sure what else she could contribute.

Her words must jar Chloe back to the present day because her smile arches up differently then. “Yeah. It was.” There’s a pause where Chloe searches her face for something. Then she says, “Well… let’s get this assignment started.”

Chloe’s bedroom is easily twice the size of Beca’s. Aside from the typical double bed, desk, wall of bookshelves crammed with haphazardly stacked tomes and clawfoot wardrobe, there’s a bay window, the seat covered in minty green cushions, an easel tucked away in one corner and a second door that either leads to a bathroom or a walk-in closet. Either way Beca thinks it’s fancy. Everything in the room is pastel, a similar theme to the blog, she supposes; all pale pinks and yellows and peaches, kind of like a faded sunset. On the desk are more books and papers spread out, but there’s also a desktop set up that probably rivals Beca’s own. A pin board hangs above the desk with all sorts of colourful stuff stuck to it. It’s not as… vivacious as Beca would’ve expected, but somehow it still seems exactly right.

There’s only the one chair, though so Beca sinks to the carpet by the desk. “Do you mind if I borrow a power point?” she asks softly.

“Go for it.” And then Chloe’s talking about science and school work and Beca is more than happy to let her make whatever decisions she wants.

All things considered, they do actually make decent progress on their assignment. And by the time two hours vanishes and lunch rolls around, Beca’s pretty convinced that this assessment will be a complete breeze. Surprisingly, it’s not even her idea to break for lunch, either. Chloe all but drags her away from her books for food.

Chloe presses her onto a stool by the kitchen counter, insisting that she should, “Just chill while I heat up pizza.” Beca’s okay with that; watching Chloe bounce around the kitchen is plenty entertaining.

“So how does your sister know me?” Beca eventually asks.

For a moment, she thinks Chloe’s frozen, but then she whirls, smiling. “Well I told her you were coming over today. Normally it’s Aubrey visiting for group work, so I figured she should at least know who to expect.”

Beca bobs her head. That makes complete sense. “Why did Aubrey ditch you for Stacie, anyway?”

Chloe hunches a shoulder. “No idea. Stacie’s probably trying to plot a way to get Aubrey to date. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Does it ever work?” Beca asks around laughter.

“No,” Chloe replies, smiling with her. “Aubrey’s not big on dating.”

“Shocking.”

Teasingly, Chloe swats at her arm. “Hey, she might be a bit uptight but she is my best friend.”

“Yeah, I know,” Beca says, waving her away. “Well if you ever want to give Stacie pointers on hooking Aubrey up with someone, point her at Jesse.” Chloe lifts an eyebrow in a silent prompt. “Oh he’s been mooning after her since before I got here. It’s pathetic.”

“ _Really_?” Chloe breathes, clearly excited. “Oh that’s good to know.”

“Just,” Beca interrupts, raising her hand. “Don’t bring my name into it.”

“I absolutely didn’t hear anything from you,” Chloe swears. Her expression is almost solemn until she starts smiling again. “So,” she begins, leaning her weight across her elbows now on the benchtop. “Do you have siblings?”

“Nope, just me,” Beca telss her.

“Pets?”

“No.”

“Favourite movie?”

“No.”

Chloe gasps in feigned horror. “How do you not have a favourite movie?”

Beca shrugs, smiling wryly. “I don’t really like movies. They’re boring.”

“Boring? How do you figure?”

“Well…” She rolls her eyes, trying to think of the nice way of saying it. “They’re tropey and predictable.”

Chloe just laughs at that. “Yeah,” she sings, leaning away. “Can’t argue with that. But isn’t that the best part? You know the characters will get a happy ending. Life’s not always like that; it’s nice to know someone gets to be happy.” There is a strange lilt to her voice that says she’s had personal experience with not getting a happily-ever-after.

“I suppose. I’ve just never enjoyed watching movies before, is all.”

“Fair enough. What about hobbies?”

“Are you always this full of questions?”

“Only until I get to know someone,” she teases, winking.

Beca sighs. “Oh um… I like music?”

“Who doesn’t?” Chloe laughs.

“My turn,” Beca decides before she can spill too much of her soul. “Favourite colour?”

Chloe’s nose wrinkles up. “I’m only allowed to pick one? That’s unfair, they’re all amazing.” Beca rolls her eyes again. “What about you?”

She has to forcibly prevent herself from saying something about that one brilliantly crystal shade of blue looking at her right now. Has to stop the words describing the colour of red hair in the sunlight of an afternoon from falling out because that would be nothing short of awkward. She settles for, “Blue… I guess.”

The way Chloe’s watching her is strange and tingly. “Yeah,” she breathes. “Blue is nice.”

But before either of them can grope around for another topic the oven _dings_ to tell them the pizza is ready. Beca is only too glad to let herself be distracted by the food and as Chloe swings the oven open the smells wafting free inform her that she’s actually hungry.

While they polish off the pizza, Chloe fires more questions at her, interrupted sporadically by Beca returning the favour. All typical getting to know you questions really. Where did Beca come from? Is she planning on going to college? How does she feel about Chinese food? Are all those photos really taken by Chloe? What about the paintings? (Turns our Chloe is all kinds of artistic.)

Chloe stands, after a while, lunch long since concluded. “So do you wanna do a bit more of this assignment?”

“Is there an option two?” Beca asks teasingly.

Of course, Chloe beams. “Naturally. Option two is we walk down the street and buy ice cream and spend the afternoon watching something on Netflix.”

Beca opens her mouth to carefully navigate her way into saying that option two sounds nice. But her phone rings, interrupting her. She taps the screen, grimacing when she sees her father’s name appear. “One sec,” she mutters apologetically. “It’s my dad.” Chloe just smiles, making to tidy up the kitchen a little as Beca answers.

“Beca,” he begins, sounding a little on edge. “I’m about to come pick you up.”

“Why?” she asks. Perhaps she sounds a little more incensed by this than she should, but she doesn’t care.

He sighs, the sound coming through all crackly. “Because I have to go out in a few hours for a meeting. I need you to do dinner and I don’t want you being an imposition on the Beales.”

She feels her face scrunch up. “Ugh. You suck.”

“Be ready in five.” The call clicks over. The fact that he hadn’t even commented on her words might be worrying. She doesn’t let it bother her.

“So I have to go, apparently,” she explains, sliding her phone into her pocket. “Dad doesn’t want me to be a burden and he’s got to go out later.”

Chloe props her hip against the counter. “I can drive you home?”

“Too late,” Beca sighs. “He’s already on his way. Raincheck on the Netflix thing?”

“Sure!”

For a beat, Beca wavers on adding more. But the words flow free anyway. “He’s um… My dad’s not home Friday nights? If you want to come over then?”

“A weeknight? How scandalous.” But Chloe’s smile is still bright. “That’s alright with me.”

Beca nods. “Okay. Cool.” She cobbles all her stuff together while she waits for her dad. Chloe sits on her bed, bouncing gently as she watches. “So um… thanks,” Beca mumbles. “For all the help, I mean.”

“Psh,” Chloe laughs, waving her off. “Not a problem. Aubrey and I usually meet twice a week for this sort of stuff.”

Beca hunches her shoulders up, slinging her bag across her back. “Yeah, well… let me know or whatever, if you want to meet up again, yeah?”

“You got it.”

A horn beeps outside and Beca heads towards the door, only just remembering her shoes on the way past. Chloe follows her out, leaning against the doorframe. As Beca climbs into the car, Chloe waves. Hesitantly, Beca returns the gesture.

“She seems nice,” her dad says on their way home.

“She is.”

He nods. “Will you be seeing more of her?”

“Until the assignment is done, yes.” She leaves unspoken the ‘and then we go back to never interacting’ but she thinks it’s obvious. At the least, her father drops the topic and they’re silent the rest of the way.

After her dad goes off to his meeting thing and dinner is cooked, Beca finds herself bored. She tries revision, homework, assignments but that just contributes to her problem. She texts Jesse for a bit and switches to Amy when he starts being a dick. But neither of them are being very entertaining so she opens the internet.

For a moment she just stares at the blank home screen. Then she clicks on Chloe’s blog. It feels sort of deceptive to have been speaking to Chloe earlier and now be looking at her blog with this vague hope that she’ll find something helpful. Like maybe reading someone’s diary to find a topic of conversation to share. But that notion doesn’t stop her from scrolling through the new posts.

When she comes to a new anecdotal post she hesitates, flip flopping between wanting to know and not wanting to pry. In the end – as usual – curiosity gets the best of her.

 _I have classes with her_ , the post reads. Beca isn’t sure whether the pronoun use is a slip up or an intentional revelation. Either way she finds it odd… in the same strange tingly way she’s been feeling a lot of things lately. _Several classes. And usually we don’t interact all that much so it’s fine. I can watch the adorable way she frowns when thinking about something from a safe distance or wish she’d smile at me the way she does when her friend says something funny. It’s really pathetic of me actually, but she said hi in the hallway the other day and I forgot how to speak_.

There’s one other post – following that one – and while it’s not specifically said to be about whoever this girl is, from reading it, Beca can tell she’s the subject. It’s written eloquently, sort of like she’d imagine a piece would be for some poetry class. Only it doesn’t have the structure of poetry. It says things like how her hair falls around her face when most of it is pulled into a bun but her bangs hang free. There’s this way she fiddles with her bangles when she’s nervous and a crooked smile she wears to cover it up. And there’s something mesmerising about the way she looks so serene while wearing her headphones, as if the world suddenly makes so much more sense to her.

 _And when she smiles it’s pure light, blinding like the sun. Seems unfair that she can be so beautiful without realising; and everyone else is a candle in comparison_.

Yeah, Beca definitely feels weird reading that. Maybe it’s just because she knows Chloe as a person? She’s shared it on the internet so clearly this isn’t something she wants to keep too secretive, but still. Private thoughts and whatnot. And honestly, now Beca’s just trying to imagine who the hell this girl might be. If – indeed – she’s a real person at all. She certainly hasn’t seen anyone at their school who sounds like that.

Beca closes the tab.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t want to acknowledge it, but she finds herself checking Chloe’s blog every day for the rest of the week. Sometimes new anecdotes appear and sometimes not. Her fascination surrounding this girl remains regardless.

 

* * *

 

Thursday afternoon while hanging out with Jesse and attempting to write the first draft of her English assignment, a new story appears on Chloe’s blog. She – admittedly – might react with a little more enthusiasm than she usually does anything. Jesse notices.

“What? What’s happening?” He scoots himself around so he can see her screen and notes the layout. “Isn’t this that blog you were looking at last week?” he asks quietly.

“Yes. It’s good, okay?”

“Clearly. And you still don’t know whose it is?”

She shakes her head rather than trust herself to lie to him.

He jabs a finger at the screen where she’s reading the latest post. “Is this a personal story or something?”

“Yeah. Apparently they have a crush on some girl they go to school with,” she expands. “It’s kind of amusing to read about, not gonna lie to you.”

Jesse eyes her strangely for a second before shrugging. “Whatever you like. What’s this one say?”

“Uh… It seems they’re doing group work for some class that isn’t mentioned and they’ve ended up being paired with the girl.”

“Ouch,” Jesse laughs, pulling a pained face. “That sucks.” His expression changes. “Hey, is the girl cute?”

Beca wrinkles her nose. “How should I know? I’ve never seen her.”

He rolls his eyes. “Is she described though?”

She presses her lips together, thinking. “Not really,” she concludes slowly. “Brunette is the only word I’ve seen used. Why?”

“Just curious.”

She eyes him suspiciously for a moment but then goes back to her writing.

 

* * *

 

It’s different being driven home, Beca decides. Normally she walks to and from school since their house is plenty close enough. And when it rains, Jesse drops her off.

Today she’s not only being drive home, but the car is Chloe’s.

“So what kind of shows do you watch?” Chloe asks her, drumming her fingers along the wheel in time to the song playing softly through the speakers.

Beca shrugs. “I don’t watch much television honestly. Some crime shows, but nothing too dedicated.”

Chloe makes a thoughtful noise. “How do you feel about reality television?”

“It’s trash,” she answers happily. “I used to watch Survivor though, that show was fun.”

“America’s Next Top Model?”

She scrunches her face up. “I’ve never watched that on principle.”

“It’s really funny,” Chloe assures her. “Can I try and convert you?”

Beca thinks a moment and sighs. “I’ll give you three episodes. If it’s not interesting by then though, I’m out.”

“Fair enough. What about food?” Chloe goes on. “Do we need to stop at the store and get junk?”

“Nah, we’ve got plenty of trash food in the house, don’t you worry about that.”

Chloe just laughs.

When they pull up in her driveway, Beca finds herself sort of nervous? She doesn’t actually have anything to worry about, but her house is nowhere near as pretty as Chloe’s. It’s probably not as clean either.

“Okay,” she says with an anxious chuckle, sticking her key in the lock. “Don’t judge, but neither my dad nor I much care for housework so it’s a bit messy.”

“I’m sure it can’t _possibly_ be as bad as Stacie’s place,” Chloe tells her and somehow that’s reassuring.

So Beca kicks the door in and heads inside. The inside is all cream paint and wood; polished floor, giant wooden bookcases, mahogany TV cabinet, wicker coffee table. It says a lot about her dad’s decorating skills. Beyond that is their little kitchen (no dining room, they only ever eat on the sofas anyway). On the left is a little nook her dad filled with cushions and shelves and turned into a place where he can sit and mark. To their right past the living room is a hall to the bedrooms.

Beca leads Chloe that way. Her bedroom is the last one on the right and is rather cramped. Between her desk and all its computer and sound equipment, her single bed, the wardrobe and another large bookcase stacked with CDs and DVDs along with the requisite reading material, there’s not much space left. And what room there is mostly has been filled with a pair of oversized beanbags and some more cushions.

“Just drop your stuff wherever,” she says quietly. “The bathroom is across the hall.”

Chloe nods, bag sliding off her shoulder to slump onto the floor as she looks around. There are a few posters tacked to the walls and some old trophies on the top shelf of the bookcase. Those seem to catch Chloe’s eye and she leans up onto her toes to try and read the inscriptions. Beca doesn’t know if she succeeds; doesn’t care, just sinks onto the end of her bed.

Her desk is set up opposite the bed so she can watch something on the screen while lying in bed. It’s blank at the moment, but she’d rather stare at that than watch the way Chloe’s shirt lifts around her hips and shows a strip of skin.

“So um,” Beca begins, trying to fill the silence. “I can order Chinese for dinner, if you want?”

Chloe settles back down onto her feet. “Yeah, okay,” she replies, smiling. “When do you want to eat?”

“Not for a while. How about we start that Top Model rubbish first?”

Chloe grins. “You got it.” As she’s setting her laptop up on the desk Beca helps shift her sound stuff out of the way. “What’s all this for?” Chloe wonders softly.

“I mix music,” Beca confesses after a moment, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands.

When she looks up, Chloe’s staring at her with these wide disbelieving eyes, a funny smile curving her lips. “Really? That is _so cool_.” She pauses, sucking her lip between her teeth. “Any chance I could hear some?”

For a moment, Beca wavers. She doesn’t let anyone listen to her stuff. Ever. Not Amy, not Jesse, no one. And yet she still says, “Maybe after dinner.” It’s worth it just to see Chloe’s face light up.

Then Chloe’s hitting play on her laptop and crawling onto Beca’s bed, patting the spot beside her. With a dramatic roll of her eyes, Beca slides onto the mattress as well. It’s hard to keep a decent amount of space between them, but Chloe doesn’t seem to care. She, apparently, had no problems with a little bit of personal space invading. Truthfully (and Beca realises this with a shock) she thought she’d mind more than she actually did.

“So what’s the deal with this show, anyway?” Beca asks, focusing the entirety of her attention on the laptop.

“Modelling,” Chloe laughs. “They do photoshoots and stuff like that. But mostly they just bitch about each other. It’s great.”

“Uh huh.”

But she did find herself watching two episodes and sort of enjoying it. So there was that. After the second episode finished, she ducked out to order dinner, asking Chloe what she’d like as she did so. That done, she sinks back onto the bed and braces herself for another episode.

“This is the third one,” Chloe reminds her with faux-seriousness. “You can bail after this.”

“Whatever, just hit play, dude.”

They make it through about half of the episode before the doorbell buzzes. Then Beca bounds from the bed and hurries to get it. Once she’s paid the delivery guy she grabs some drinks from the fridge and heads back into her room to flop onto the bed again.

She doesn’t make a habit of having picnics on her bedspread, but if this is any indication of how they go, Beca doesn’t mind them. The show keeps playing the in the background and sometimes they pay attention. Other times Chloe’s telling her silly stories about having picnics in the park with Aubrey when they were younger. Or she’s asking Beca what she does on the weekends.

It’s nice.

When they’re done eating (and Chloe’s finally paused the show so they don’t miss anything good), she begins to help Beca tidy up. “It’s okay,” Beca cuts in quickly. “I’ve got this. You just… Stay.”

Chloe laughs at her. “What? Like a dog?”

“No. Like a guest.”

As Beca’s about to carry all their empty paper bowls into the kitchen, Chloe says, “Hey, um… Can I stay the night?”

Beca blinks. “I guess? We don’t have a guest room though.”

But Chloe’s obviously not listening. “It’s just a half hour drive home and it’s already nearly seven-thirty and… Oh. Really?”

“Sure,” Beca says with a somewhat hampered shrug. “I’ll sleep on the floor. If you want I’ll get you shower stuff. Hang on.”

She feels Chloe stand and follow her out. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s Friday night,” Beca goes on. “There are probably all sorts of idiots out. Some drunk moron driving or whatever. Don’t want you getting in an accident or anything. It’s no big deal.”

She dumps all their rubbish into the bin and looks up in time to see a shy smile curling Chloe’s lips. “Thanks,” she whispers.

“Really,” Beca dismisses. “It’s nothing. I’ll just… find you a towel.” She hustles into the bathroom to find a spare towel before stepping back into her room. “Should you, I dunno, call your parents or something and tell them you’re safe? I don’t want anyone thinking you’ve been kidnapped or anything.”

“I texted my sister,” Chloe explains, still wearing that little smile as she flourishes her phone. “Don’t worry.” Her smile falters a little thing. “Just… is there any chance I could borrow pyjamas or something? I didn’t bring any.” Her expression is sheepish.

“Gosh,” Beca huffs, smiling. “You’re so needy, Beale.”

Chloe slaps her arm playfully as Beca crosses the room to rummage around in her drawer. “Well I wasn’t going to stay this late. It’s all your fault.”

“My fault?”

“Yes, you’re such good company and I lost track of time.”

Beca just rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Here. I dunno if it’ll be too small for you or something.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” And then Chloe was flouncing out of the room leaving Beca to her thoughts.

It’s weird, but Beca isn’t entirely sure what she should do with herself while she waits. She stands, intending on getting another drink just so her hands have something to do. But as she’s walking past the bathroom door she hears singing. She wants to slap herself for stopping to listen, but well… it’s really pretty.

“ _A little bit of everything. Mixed up, so tough in a beautiful way. She’s got the world at her fingertips, she makes beauty look effortless, and I want everything she is…_ ”

Shaking herself, Beca heads into the kitchen. She stares at the fridge for a good long moment before grabbing a bottle and walking back. In spite of herself, she stops again, listening.

“ _Well we talk for hours, but she wrote the book on hard to get. No, it don’t matter what I say. I could buy her flowers, but that’s just too cliché to impress a girl like her. But you know, I kinda like it that way_.”

She hears the tap squeak and the water stops running so she ducks back into her room to fiddle around with a mix for twenty seconds. It feels less like being a creepy stalker which is a huge plus. She feels Chloe quietly enter the room and stop behind her, watching.

“You sing in the shower,” Beca mumbles.

Chloe, predictably, laughs. “Yeah well, gotta do something to entertain myself in the shower.”

Beca tips her head back slightly to look at her. “Is she anyone in particular,” she teases. Chloe’s face scrunches up and she swats the back of Beca’s head. She doesn’t say ‘no’ though. “So,” Beca goes on. “If you promise to behave, you can listen to a mix while I shower.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Chloe laughs, swiping a finger over her chest in an ‘X’ shape. “Best behaviour.”

Wordlessly, Beca passes her massive headphones to Chloe as she stands. Then, as she’s about to leave, adds, “Anything in that folder. Those are the finished ones.”

“Got it,” Chloe whispers, sinking onto the chair and pulling the oversized headphones over her ears. Beca can’t help but think she looks really adorable in them. But she exits anyway.

And if she happens to shower extra fast that night well… whatever.

She pauses in the doorway to her room, watching Chloe’s face as she listens. There’s something really amazing playing across her features and it makes Beca’s heart do some stupid aerobics routine. (The fact that her clothes are just the slightest bit too small for Chloe doesn’t in any way contribute to this.) And when Chloe realises she’s standing there and looks up, the full force of that expression knocks the wind from her lungs.

“These are amazing, Becs,” Chloe says, a little bit louder than normal.

Her heart does another dumb flip at the nickname but she doesn’t mention it. Instead she just hums a noncommittal response and sits on the edge of her bed.

“No really,” Chloe persists, spinning on the chair to keep her eyes on Beca. “They’re awesome.”

Beca arches her shoulders up but manages to mutter, “Thanks.”

Chloe huffs out a laugh, slipping the headphones from around her neck and flicking the screen off. “Alright. You wanna watch another episode then?”

“If by ‘watch’ you mean ‘fall asleep during’ then yes,” Beca says, smiling.

“Uh huh, well I can go sleep on the couch.”

“Nah.” Beca bobs her head at the beanbags on her floor. “I’ll sleep on them. Won’t be the first time.”

“Don’t be silly,” Chloe argues. “It’s your bed.”

“You’re the guest.”

Chloe smacks her with a pillow. “You’re ridiculous.” As she settles back against the headboard though she adds, “Maybe we can share.”

Beca’s honestly not sure how she feels about that but she’ll go with it.

She doesn’t fall asleep during the next episode, but by the time the fifth one is starting her eyelids are drooping. She shuffles forward on the bed to turn off Chloe’s laptop and the light switch on the wall. Chloe makes an unhappy sound, so she pulls out her phone and turns on the lamp on the bedside table before crawling back into the sheets.

“Can I turn the lamp off?”

“Yes.”

“And are you sure you don’t want me to sleep on the floor?” Beca asks softly. “It’s no problem.”

“This is good,” Chloe mumbles.

“You’re positive? Because–”

“Beca, are you dating Jesse?”

The topic change throws her for a _massive_ loop. “Uh, no. Why?”

Chloe shrugs, flopping onto her side to watch Beca through the gloom. “Just asking. You hang out with him a lot.”

“He’s my friend.”

Chloe just hums and pokes her in the stomach. “And now you’ve stopped asking if I want you on the floor. So it was a successful deviation.”

Beca huffs a laugh. “Uh huh.” She rolls onto her back. “Sleep tight, nerd.”

 

* * *

 

She wakes up first in the morning to discover that Chloe’s kind of clingy in her sleep. With one leg wrapped between Beca’s and an arm thrown over her stomach, hand fisted in her shirt and head on her shoulder, it’s a pretty good barnacle impersonation. Truly.

Gently, Beca wiggles free, trying to both leave Chloe asleep and ignore the way her heart is thumping. She manages. Barely. And then she scuttles from the room to put coffee on.

Chloe wakes up not long later with messy hair, rubbing her eyes, shirt bunched up exposing her belly button. She offers a sleepy smile though and Beca doesn’t think too hard on it. Doesn’t think about how unfairly attractive she is.

And if Chloe doesn’t stay long, Beca isn’t secretly relieved.

 

* * *

 

It isn’t until Wednesday that Beca even remembers to check Chloe’s blog for more developments on her love life. Which, you know, kinda weird, but they’re not exactly _friends_ so it’s probably way strange to ask. This is the sort of behaviour that no doubt earns her a spot in a mental facility but that’s… she’ll gloss over it. She’s fine.

She’s just minding her own business in the library for her spare when she remembers to check the blog. It has to be safe to check it in the library. Beca doesn’t have spares with Jesse or Benji so it’s not like either of them can make some comment about how jealous she is that Chloe’s got this person she’s clearly pining after. (And Beca’s not, honestly. Jealous that is. Why would she be? How utterly absurd.)

Except that this anecdote is wildly different to the others. And that’s due entirely to the fact that Beca knows _precisely_ who the girl is this time. It has her equal parts shocked and terrified. Like there’s some sort of power that comes with knowing.

This time, the post reads:

 _I may have made a huge mistake by spending Friday night at her place_. Which, like, dead giveaway right there. Unless Chloe can spend the same night in two different places, that is. _Because she was just really sweet all night. The way she spoke I get the impression that some of the things she told me… She doesn’t share them often. It’s stupid to feel special but maybe I kinda do? She tried to sleep on the floor so I could have the bed, I mean, that’s just… She’s a sweetheart and I’m hopeless_.

Something warm and liquid plunges through her chest and settles in with her small intestine. It leaves heat in its wake, like some molten substance has just burned a path through her. There’s a sort of numbness that wraps around her then, in spite of how her heart picks up its frantic pace, trying to race right on out of her ribcage. She’s of half a mind to let it.

For the very longest time, Beca just sits there staring at the screen. She has absolutely no idea what to do with this information. Conspiracy theories start forming in her head.

Chloe isn’t secretly harbouring some form of affection for her; this is all a huge joke. A prank (probably designed and orchestrated by Aubrey) just to crush her soul. Because why would Chloe Beale, Veritable Angel, feel anything at all beyond contempt for Beca Mitchell? She was probably meant to find the URL for some twisted reason.

Except that Chloe was the one using Tumblr when she found the blog and she’s too nice to be in on something like this. So maybe not.

Perhaps it’s not really Chloe’s account. It’s someone else’s account completely and Beca just totally misread the name. A highly logical explanation. (Though a lot of freaky coincidences lie down that road.)

Maybe this is all one big hallucination. Yep. Totally likely. She’ll go and check herself into the psych-ward presently.

Beca sighs, slumping backwards against her chair. What a stupid situation. She should never have started stalking Chloe. Benevolently stalking, she silently amends. It’s not like she’s hurt anyone. Other than herself, of course.

She actually considers texting Jesse a link to the post. But he would hardly be any help. He’d probably tell her to go talk to Chloe about it. Though admitting she’s been following Chloe’s blog for the last few weeks… Yeah no. Pass.

She’s still debating potential courses of action a little over ten minutes later when hands land on her shoulders. Beca makes a highly undignified squeaking sound as she lurches forward in her seat, ripping the hands away from her. She whirls around, ready to give someone a good old fashioned tongue lashing, no matter the restrictions put in place and fiercely maintained by their dragon of a librarian. But all the anger comes whooshing straight back out again when she realises it’s Chloe.

And normally Chloe wears a bright smile and a carries a spring in her step. Right now, though, she looks pale; terrified. As if someone just told her when she was to expect her own funeral.

“Hey, Chlo,” Beca manages to sigh. “You scared the shit out of me. What’s wrong?”

But Chloe doesn’t speak; she’s all wide blue eyes and horror. It takes a moment before Beca realises she’s looking at her laptop. And when she does, she realises what has her looking as if someone had walked over her grave.

“Oh my god,” Beca exhales. Hastily, she closed the tab. (Well it was minimised, but out of sight out of mind, right?)

“That’s my blog?” Chloe mumbles and her knees must give out because she’s suddenly seated beside Beca. “What…?”

Beca’s fingers twist the leather band on her wrist and she realises that Chloe had mentioned that in a post. She pushes the thought aside, knowing she looks as guilty as she feels. “I uh… Sorry?”

Chloe blinks at her. “Sorry? For what?”

“For um… For watching you on Tumblr… two weeks ago and typing in the URL to see if there were more cat gifs and finding this and not ignoring it like any sane person?” she offers, knowing she’s babbling. Beca rubs the back of her neck, trying (and failing) to meet Chloe’s eyes. “I should’ve just forgotten about it. I’m sorry.”

“You uh…” Chloe’s gaze flicks her way and then skitters off again. “You read it?”

Beca nods, feeling awful. “I wanted to see whose it was.”

“You know that…” Chloe trails off, swallowing. “That I um…”

“Yeah,” Beca answers. She already knows what the question is; she might as well save her the trouble of asking it. “I just figured it out then actually.”

This time, Chloe does meet her eyes. “I’m really sorry, Becs. I should’ve… I couldn’t…” She sighs, sounding defeated.

“Chloe,” Beca tries.

“No look, I’m just. I’m sorry okay. I probably should’ve told you. Now everything’s going to be weird. I’m actually not very good at this sort of thing, and I really like you and I didn’t want you to stop talking to me when we’d _just_ sort of started maybe being friends and I’m sorry. I–”

“Chlo, stop.”

Surprisingly, she actually does. Her teeth click together and those big blue eyes seem kinda watery and that’s just not okay. Beca sucks in a deep breath, steeling herself to say something she’ll more than likely regret before too long.

When Chloe opens her mouth to babble some more though she blurts, “Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

And again, her mouth snaps shut. Just for a moment, mind, then it opens again slowly and closes, and opens, and closes. She looks like a fish for a few seconds while her mouth works at finding words.

“I uh…” Chloe eventually rasps. “What?”

Beca feels her nose wrinkle. “It was hard enough saying that the first time.” The words shiver free in a quasi-kind-of-laugh.

“Did you ask if I’d go out with you?” Chloe breathes, sounding as if she’s trying to convince herself she’s not dreaming. “Like… on a date? With you?”

This time, Beca’s laugh is a little more honest. “Yeah with me. Unless you’d rather someone else?”

“No! I…” Then there’s a definite pink colour creeping across Chloe’s nose as if she hadn’t meant to say that as quickly as she had. “I’d like that.”

A smile – unsure and fragile – sneaks across Chloe’s face and Beca can feel one of her own mirroring it. So when Chloe’s smile crumbles a little at the edges and falls, Beca’s does too. With it, a sinking feeling plummets to her toes, tugging, making her feel off kilter. It’s panic, she realises slowly.

“You’re not just asking that because of the posts are you?” Chloe very clearly does not want to ask that question. But she does, and Beca knows with absolute certainty why. Knows that somewhere, hidden behind the blue of her eyes, someone once hurt Chloe and this was how they did it. She’s never claimed to be very good at reading people, but Chloe Beale wears her emotions for all to see (ninety percent of the time, anyway) and so even to Beca it’s obvious.

“I’m not,” Beca assures her. “Promise. Ask Jesse. He’ll be more than happy to tell you all about it.” She tries to smile, to inject a little levity to the situation, but she doesn’t think it works.

Now, Chloe just looks confused. “All about what?”

Another laugh huffs out in a half-hearted way. “Geez, Chlo. Asking all the hard questions today.” She pauses, but Chloe keeps looking at her in that way that demands an answer. “I like you. Um, have for a while? Jesse’s an ass; he teases me about it all the damn time but – oh.”

Chloe has slipped off her chair and is now awkwardly hugging Beca, still seated. Trying to find an easier angle to facilitate this action sees them both land on the floor. But that’s okay, because it means Chloe can squeeze her tighter and that’s nice.

“You’re not mad?” Chloe breathes, tickling the hair by her ear.

“Mad? Why would I be mad?”

Chloe leans back, holding Beca at arm’s length and regards her seriously. “Because I may have mentioned my… slight attraction to you to Stacie and she cooked up a plan to get us to work together so we’d have an excuse to actually _talk_ ,” she rambles. “And then I spent the night in your bed even though you were happy to sleep on the floor and according to Aubrey that’s violating some kind of uh… ‘alt chick space bubble rule’ or whatever nonsense she was on about and maybe I’d hurt your feelings? Which is the _last_ think I wanted to do but–”

She only cuts off her seemingly endless stream of words when Beca pokes the end of her nose. “Slight attraction, huh?” Beca asks her teasingly.

It earns an eye roll. “My friends conspired to set us up even though Aubrey doesn’t like you and _that’s_ what you take from it?” Chloe sighs, exasperation tinting her voice.

“We can come back to the conspiracy and why Aubrey doesn’t like me,” Beca explains. “I mean, clearly I’m a delight.” At that Chloe smiles, which is all she really wanted so mission accomplished. “I’d like to clarify the _slight_ thing.”

If Chloe keeps rolling her eyes they’re going to roll right on out of her head. “Okay. What about it?”

Beca points to her laptop. “You _blogged_ about me. And ‘slight’ is your adjective of choice?”

Chloe deflates, letting Beca go so they’re sitting side by side, sure, but there’s no longer half as much contact. Beca kind of misses it… weird. “Alright,” Chloe conceded eventually. “Maybe it’s more than a _slight_ attraction to you.”

She’s smiling, a proper one (possibly the one Chloe would call blinding like the sun). “And you didn’t really answer me, so I’ll repeat: Would you like to go out with me?”

“That’s on a date, right?”

“Right.”

Chloe grins. “Yes, that… Yes.”

Beca feels warm all over and she can’t make the smile go away. “Good. Okay.”

“Hey, Becs?”

“Mm?”

“I know there’s like… dating etiquette or something, but would it be okay if I kissed you right now?”

Beca feigns thoughtfulness. “I suppose that’d be alright.”

But Chloe’s still beaming luminously and it’s _way_ better than just alright.


End file.
